The Adventures of AngstBucket Harry
by Who Died of Ennui
Summary: Harry is a very angry, angst-filled person. VERY angry. In the latest volume, he goes to the grocery store. Angst ensues. Incidentally-- this is a parody. Reviews much appreciated.


**The Adventures of Angst-Bucket Harry**

**Vol. i -- Trip to the Grocery Store**

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Author's Note: This is an odd little parody drawn up from what I recall of Harry's insane angstiness in Book Five. You know, that frantic blaming of others, the huge sections typed ENTIRELY IN CAPITALS TO DEMONSTRATE THE SOULFUL ANGST OF HARRY, and such. So this fic... slightly pointless, not much of a plot, but just for fun... 

Incidentally, if you have a spare hour or two, feel free to take a look at the fics I'm working on with my friend, the user Socra. Our joint account is pen name Semi-Automatic Grandmas. Hooray...?

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It was a glum, foggy Saturday morning. Harry Potter ambled angstily down the main road in Hogsmeade, kicking at the dirty slush that lined the road. He had to go to the grocery store, he reflected bitterly, and buy food. And he would have to carry whatever he bought all by himself, because almost every single bloody person other than himself had gotten trapped in an avalanche. The useless slackers. 

He reached the grocery store, a place whose sign declared it to be called Antison Grocery. Before opening the door, he glared at the sign, hating it for saying what it did. Why did the owner have to be called "Antison"? Didn't they know it could be interpreted as "anti-son"? He was somebody's son! Just because his parents had died and left him all alone... that didn't give all the grocery store owners in the world the right to laugh at him and mock him!

After giving the offensive sign one last angry glance, he opened the door and went inside. A young girl wearing an Antison's Grocery uniform greeted him politely.

He ignored her, and instead struck a tragic pose and said, "I hate how everybody nowadays assumes those snobby attitudes, with their stupid facades of politeness hiding how much the world hates me. BUT I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO'S FOUGHT VOLDEMORT AND LIVED!"

"May I help you?" she asked nervously.

"Help me? WHERE WERE YOU when Cedric needed help? Did you face Voldemort? No, I don't think so! So don't you even TRY to make up for it now, by offering your aid now! Damn you all, I hate you!"

The girl edged away.

Harry moodily swept into the store, kicking his foot against the sides of shelves absentmindedly. Suddenly, his foot struck the bottom row of cans on an enormous pyramid built of them, of cans of Super Magic Super Soup.

There was a series of crashings, and Harry groaned, sounding as though he was many miles away. The store manager came running over, to assist whomever had been assaulted by the cans.

Just as the manager was about to start digging through the enormous untidy pile of cans, he heard a rumbling noise coming from deep within it. He stepped back, just in time, for two seconds later, the pile seemed to explode, with cans flying from it in all directions, powered by Harry's massive angst.

When the plaster dust from the ceiling, which flying cans had viciously battered, had cleared, the manager looked to where the cans had been. Standing there was a short, ruffled looking young boy, his face bright red, but not with

embarrassment.

"God damn it!" he yelled. "WHY DID THAT HAPPEN? I'VE TOLD YOU EVERYBODY HATES ME!"

The manager attempted to comfort Harry, but Harry spun on him. "DON'T COME NEAR ME! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! IF YOU HAD COME AND FOUGHT VOLDEMORT INSTEAD OF RUNNING YOUR STUPID BLOODY GROCERY STORE, CEDRIC COULD BE ALIVE! SIRIUS COULD BE ALIVE! I COULD BE A HELL OF A LOT LESS ANGSTY!"

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that, sir," said the manager cautiously.

"YOU HAD BLOODY BETTER BE SORRY!"

The manager shuddered. Harry wasn't just shouting, he was screeching, and the sound severely frayed the nerves of the poor manager.

"ANSWER ME! WHY DOES EVERYBODY ALWAYS IGNORE ME? THEY LEAVE ME ALL ALONE FOR THE SUMMERS, NARY A FRIENDLY WORD. AND I GO AND SAVE THEIR BUTTOCKS FROM VOLDEMORT, AND WHAT DO I GET? I GET BLOODY DISRESPECT FROM STUPID GROCERY STORE MANAGERS WHO HAVE NEVER BEEN ALONE LIKE I HAVE, NEVER HAD TO FIGHT FOR THEIR LIFE AGAINST VOLDEMORT! LIKE I HAVE! OBVIOUSLY!"

He paused in his angst-filled rant long enough to look at the manager, to see whether the rant was having the desired effect.

The manager had crumpled, and fainted clean away.

"YOU STUPID USELESS TOADHOLE!" screamed Harry. "NOW YOU'VE GOT ME TALKING IN CAPITALS, PROBABLY PERMANENTLY, BECAUSE NO ONE KNOWS HOW HARD IT IS TO STOP TALKING IN CAPITALS ONCE YOU'VE STARTED. NO ONE EXCEPT ME!"

Harry sat down on a display of brightly colored peaches, and wept to himself while screaming angrily and quietly.

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The End (of this particular display of Harry's angst; undoubtedly, he will continue being angsty quite possibly for the rest of his life...) 


End file.
